


i’m gonna take what you’re giving

by missgine (blueberry_muffin)



Series: you've always been my first choice. [3]
Category: GOT7
Genre: ABO, Alpha rut, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Hand Jobs, I tried lmao, M/M, Masturbation, Omegaverse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rutting, Smut, in my au lol, intersex male omegas and female alphas, very minimal editing lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-01-04 13:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberry_muffin/pseuds/missgine
Summary: Jackson’s in a rut. Literally.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i like changing up the how abo fics are written sometimes so enjoy lol

Jackson is so thankful he has a penchant for wearing dark clothes. He’s walking quickly into his apartment complex and is sweating like he’s just come from dance practice even though he was just chilling at the studio. He gets into a thankfully empty elevator and puts his arm out and up against the side of it to keep from swaying, taking a few measured deep breaths to keep from panting, his cheeks already a steady pink.

 

It’s way too hot. He needs to get inside his apartment. 

 

He might have overstayed at the studio, he admits. He and boytoy were just joking around and brainstorming new tracks when Jackson saw the time and knew he had to go home as it was late and his rut would be starting tomorrow. 

 

Apparently it’s tomorrow, Jackson thinks as watches the floor numbers rolls passed on the elevator display. If Jackson’s honest, this is totally his own fault. He knew what was going to happen -it’s not like it was a surprise- and stocked up on food and told his managers and yet here he is, stumbling towards his apartment because he stayed out almost way too late than he should have. 

 

He probably shouldn’t have also stopped by the dorms earlier today either. 

 

But he couldn’t help it, okay?! They were on the last legs of their break and it was right before Yugyeom and Jaebum had to depart for the Jus2 tour and Youngjae and Jinyoung didn’t have any schedules today and Mark and Bambam were back in Korea so the seven of them all went had brunch together. They were only supposed to have breakfast but time spent with the group was too fun and they all lost track of time, too busy laughing and basking in each other’s presence. 

 

Spending all that time around them, around Mark, probably sped up the arrival of his rut. And Jackson had no one to blame but himself. What was he supposed to do? Avoid everyone until next week? Hell no. 

 

So there Jackson was, hanging out with his friends -basically his pack if we’re honest- and just having a good time and relaxing after a few days of non stop work and maybe Mark was a little more affectionate this morning and god, even just thinking about Mark makes Jackson sway with the urge to take. He exhales, forcefully controlled as he tries to get his mind back in as much order as he can, he’s not even in his apartment yet.

 

Jackson’s hand shakes as the clumsily tries to input the code to unlock his apartment door, thumb pressing the wrong button a few times, slippery with forming sweat. 

 

The fluffy jacket that laid over his tracksuit feels like a heavy electric blanket on his shoulders, turned up to the highest heat setting. A few beads of sweat trail down Jackson’s temples to the sides of his face and down his jaw to pool into clothes by his collarbones; he whips the beanie off his head and clutches it in a clenched fist. He can practically see his breath humidifying the air in front of him. The door clicks open and Jackson shoves himself inside, quickly slamming the door behind him as he leans his back again the door and kicks off his sneakers haphazardly and fumbles with the zipper on his jacket, grumbling in his frustration as the zipper gets caught and just whipping it off like a shirt. 

 

He hears his phone clatter to the floor when it gets jostled out of his pocket but he pays it no mind as he tries to cool down, scrabbling at his track jacket and shirt. 

 

He shakily leans against the wall as he tries to put his outerwear away, not wanting to leave a mess he wouldn’t want to clean later. He hangs the fluffy jacket on a waiting hook, but the hand holding his tracksuit jacket falls to the ground when Jackson gets close enough to his coat hooks, nostrils flaring, muscles tensing. He bursts into frenzied action.  

 

He rifles through the rack so fast, uncaring of the expensive jackets sacrificed to the floor to find it -the sweater that smells like Mark. 

 

Jackson rumbles when he finds Mark’s favorite sweater of Jackson’s. It smells so sweetly of Mark that Jackson can already feel himself start to strain against the hem of his pants. Jackson knows he should get to his room and take a cold shower so that he can prepare himself for the rest of his rut, but no one’s here to stop him from bringing his hoodie covered in Mark’s scent to his nose and sinking to the floor, body leaning against the door as his knees weaken. 

 

Jackson inhales roughly through his nose as much as possible, he wants as much of Mark’s scent as he can have, greedy in the headiness of rut. Jackson wishes he had the real person here instead, but he’ll take what he can get. 

 

This isn’t the best idea but Jackson isn’t necessarily thinking rationally right now. Not when’s like this, not when all he wants to do is bury himself deep into Mark’s body, to make him shake and thrash, to make him want Jackson as much as Jackson longs him right now. 

 

The Mark scented sweater is in one hand and the other is pulling up his shirt out of the way, the cooler air of his apartment making the hair trailing down his abdomen slightly stand even though Jackson feels anything but cool right now. Jackson is shaking, seated on the floor right up against his door, it’s the start of his rut and he’s about to shove his hand in his pants. 

 

This is really not a good idea but when he takes a breath to try to get it together Mark’s scent floods his nostrils again and his pupils dilate and-

 

“Fuck it,” Jackson mutters. 

 

He shoves his athletic pants down his thighs in a rough shove and he’s so hard that he smacks against his stomach before he can get a hand around himself. Jackson’s thighs quiver at the exposure, the cooler air of the room making goosebumps appear on his skin even as he feels like he’s running a fever. 

 

Jackson moans when he takes his cock in hand, so close and yet knowing that it’s too far to be over. It’s only the beginning of his rut and Jackson can already feel every bead of sweat on his body, every scratch of cloth from his half on clothes, can feel the heat of his own breath, humid, leaving his mouth. 

 

He strokes himself, sitting on the floor, back against his front door and a mess of clothes scattered around him. Up down, up down, up down, it’s good, but that’s all it is, just good. 

 

He needs more than good right now.

 

Jackson’s hips roll in time with his strokes, glide lubricated from the pre-come that steadily dribbles from the head of his cock, pearling at the tip and slicking all over his length, his hand. 

 

His mouth is open and panting, breathing an afterthought to getting off as quickly as possible. He thumbs at his glans and right under the head of his cock, groaning when he inhales through his nose and gets a whiff of Mark’s scent off the hoodie next to him, his other hand still clenched in the black fabric, knuckles a bony marble. He releases another steady stream of pre-come when he smells Mark’s scent, wanting. 

 

Jackson growls, jaw aching from how hard his teeth are mashing together, eyes clenched shut. His hand is going to rub off the top layer of skin off his cock with how fast he’s pumping, but it’s not enough -he needs more. 

 

Jackson squeezes the swell of his knot, hips jerking. He knows it’s too early for it to fully form yet but he can’t help it, wants his rut to go away faster. 

 

God, he’s just so hard, so hard that it hurts and not even in a good way. 

 

Jackson’s breath catches in his throat when he tries to speed up, twisting his hand at the end of every stoke. His head turns to the side and presses back against the door and his hands clench into the Mark scent infused hoodie and his thighs shake and his hips piston back and forth and it’s still not enough. 

 

The air is stuffy, overheated and humid and it weighs Jackson’s down everytime he has to breathe. His body temperature is only steadily getting warmer and his abdomen increasingly tenses up. He tries to bring the hoodie back up to his nose to sniff at it but it only slows his hand down but it’ll help with Mark’s scent but at the cost of speed-

 

Jackson curses under his breath -this isn’t working out. He doesn’t know how he’s gonna get off at this point, cock twitching insistently in his hand, the other still grasping one of his hoodies.

 

Jackson wants to smack himself -this is  _ his  _ hoodie. He lets out a miserable huff and with great difficulty, let’s go of his cock to take his sweater in both hands, scrambling to find the opening and carelessly throwing in on, not even pulling it down all the way. He throws the hood on, pulling as far down his face as he can, turning his head to bury his nose into the fabric, shuddering as he’s able to inhale his fill and grabs a hold of his cock again. 

 

Jackson groans when he gets his hand pumping again, the other massaging his sac. He squeezes and strokes in the place he likes and can dually reach now, huff huff huffing breath from in between his teeth.

 

Jackson’s hips start to spasm and the trembles in his thighs increases as his muscle start to bunch, shoulders tensed in and abdomen tight. He’s continued to leak and Jackson quivers, bringing both hands up to thumb at his building knot and pushes pressure in the right places and ducks his head to bury into the hoodie bunched up on him and comes. 

 

He comes, spilling a mess over his hands and with his head still swimming with heat and Mark’s scent and Jackson’s hips jerk, still thrusting into his hands before slowing to a stop. It’s both gratifying and frustrating; he still hasn’t cooled down yet. 

Some terribly hormonal, animal part of his brain thinks about calling Mark over so that Jackson can finally claim him, biting hard enough at the skin of his neck to bite a bond deep enough Mark will jolt in his arms before he relaxes into it, soft and pliant in his arms. 

 

Jackson shakes his head side to side to clear it of that thought. Not only is that not right but it doesn’t help him when all he does is get harder in his hands again. He doesn’t like where his mind is going, doesn’t like to think he’d actually be capable of treating Mark like -like  _ that,  _ like an object just here for Jackson’s pleasure _.  _ Those kinds of thoughts make Jackson’s stomach roil in a different way.

 

But still, the truth is, if Mark were to actually come over now, Jackson doesn’t think he’d be capable of letting Mark leave. He’s already pushing down a mixture of annoyance and slight panic when his body realizes “Mark” isn’t next to Jackson anymore and so Jackson lifts the sweater up to smell again, debating on screaming into it when it makes him feel worse -it’s stems the panic and annoyance, but has him leaking steadily against his stomach and he hasn’t even been through the worse of his rut yet. 

 

If anything, Jackson has gotten hotter and he growls in frustration, tossing his head back and bumping it on the door behind him. He growls again and jacks off once more so quickly that he whites out. 

 

It takes a while for him to come back to himself, even longer to pull his pants back, shove the clothes on the floor to the side and hobble his way to his ensuite, shedding his soiled clothes and slumping into a cold shower. 

 

He sits under the ice cold spray of the shower, which hardly even feels cold once it hits his skin. His cock keep twitching against his stomach, swollen and still dissatisfied and Jackson slaps one of the walls in frustration. 

 

Getting out from the shower is difficult -toweling off even more so. Everything is still too sensitive. He forgoes clothes when even trying to get a shirt over his head makes his gut tighten and hair stand on end, throwing himself down onto his bed in a defeated heep. 

 

He doesn’t know if he lays on his bed for minutes or hours, body still too hot, mind still too restless. 

 

Jackson doesn’t even want Mark sexually anymore, just wants him close, close,  _ closer _ . Wants to hold him in his arms and bury his face in Mark’s neck, body jolting when Mark laughs his high pitched giggle, scent in Jackson’s nose and infusing into his skin, into his very being. Jackson whines low in his throat and into one of his pillows. He grumbles, knowing that he’ll be alone for the rest of his rut and feels Mark’s non-presence so poignantly that he feels like crying.

 

When he glances at the clock on his night table, Jackson groans at the innocently blaring 1100 displayed on the screen. It’s gonna be a long few days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i know i said that first chapter was it but uh hahaha i couldn't help myself lol
> 
> oh yeah i forgot to mention in the first chapter, but this was inspired by [this song](https://youtu.be/3qfSil-DeGE)  
> heck the title is even from the lyrics lol

Mark huffs, slightly annoyed but understanding when Jackson doesn’t answer his phone. He has a bag of sports drinks and protein bars in one hand and his phone in the other as he walks through the halls of Jackson’s apartment complex. When he’s in the elevator, he texts the rest of the members and their manager to not worry about them the rest of the week and even leaves a voicemail to Jackson’s mother in case she tries to call Jackson. 

 

Mark shakes head as he gets off on Jackson’s floor. Jackson is so smart and yet can be so stupid sometimes, Mark is astounded. The fool was about a day or two away from his rut and still decided to go out with them. And then, he had the gall to even stop by the studio to work even though he should have been at home. Jackson better be thankful for Boytoy, who made him go home and even called Mark to make sure he was okay, could smell the pre-rut on him probably. 

 

Mark’s not sure if the members did, and Jackson definitely hadn’t noticed earlier, but Mark had. 

 

All during brunch Jackson couldn’t keep his eyes, much less his hands off of him. He had a hand on Mark’s thigh, the nape of his neck playing with his hair, rounding his shoulders to make himself smaller to get into Mark’s space and whine into his jaw. Mark waved his hand down at Jaebum when he looked as though he was going to mention something, and motioned and mouthed at the rest of them to not worry and that he had everything under control. 

 

Mark let Jackson pull him into Jackson’s lap, suspicious. He melted back into Jackson regardless, and turned his head a little to nose at his jaw-to smell him inconspicuously. He was warm-almost too warm. Jackson’s scent was heavy, heavier and muskier than usual and Mark knew what was up, had realized that Jackson was in pre-rut, that idiot. 

 

He felt Jackson gather him even closer- as close as he possibly could, mindlessly oblivious of his own actions as he kept speaking with the other members. When someone else was speaking he’d lean into Mark’s shoulders and neck and hair, nuzzling into the strands of his hair, pressing kisses up and down his nape and pressing the sides of their necks as close together as he could -scenting him. He laced their fingers together to bring their hands closer to his face so that he could press light kisses against the thin bones of Mark’s wrist. He unconsciously let out a small, satisfied growl when he finished scenting Mark to his content. All of the members immediately turned to him when they heard it, eyebrows raised and catching Mark’s eye roll. 

 

He stops at Jackson’s door and punches in the passcode, letting himself inside. It is Mark’s quick reflexes that stop him from stepping on the pile of clothes scattered around the front door. “What the heck?” 

 

He frowns and a furrow between his brow forms. He sets down the bags he has with him for a few moments, picking up the miscellaneous jackets and sweaters and haphazardly piling them back on the hooks. If Jackson had made such a mess he must be too deep in his rut to care. When everything is at least off the floor, Mark picks up the bags, puts his shoes on the rack, and makes his way further into Jackson’s apartment, heading to his room. 

 

When he enters the hallway Mark can smell him, even behind the closed door. It’s not too strong but it’s definitely stronger than Jackson smells normally, all rut pheromones and testosterone; Mark licks his lips. Mark shakes his head before he enters Jackson’s room, reminds himself to take care of Jackson first before anything Mark might want to do first.

 

Jackson sputters when he turns over and does a double take when he sees Mark walking through his room’s threshold. “Mark! W-What are you doing here?”

 

He jolts suddenly, remembering his nakedness and grabs a pillow. Mark gives him a weird look -what use is modesty when he’s seen Jackson naked thousands of times, has slept with him perhaps hundreds. But that’s not the reason Jackson does this, doesn’t want to ahead of himself, doesn’t want to lose control of himself with Mark right there. He sits up a little, reclining slightly in his pillows against the headboard, pulling the blankets up his waist, facing back to Mark who starts asking him questions as soon as he’s settled. 

 

“Have you eaten anything yet? Drank anything?” Jackson opens his mouth to say something but smiles sheepishly instead.

 

Jackson’s silence is telling. Mark shakes his head at him and digs a sports drink out from one of the bags he put on the floor next to Jackson’s bedside table. 

 

“Jiaer you better finish that energy drink or else, got it?” Mark shoots Jackson a glare he’s seen maybe three times in the entirety of the time Jackson has known him, knows that that glare means business and that Mark  _ will _ do whatever he’s planning in retaliation if Jackson doesn’t finish the bottle in his hands. He chugs it down in five sizable gulps, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, shivering under Mark’s lessening glare. Jackson finds that glare distressingly hot; he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

 

Mark’s scent is stronger now that he’s actually physically here and Jackson’s baser instincts are blaring inside his head, push push pushing him to get closer, to get the sweet smelling, beautiful,  _ fertile _ omega into his arms and to fuck him open. He swallows roughly and drinks the next open sports drink Mark hands to him, swallowing like he has a sore throat. The animal part of Jackson’s brain wants to grab Mark by the hips and bend him over, keeping him in place with a hand on his neck and a cock in his cunt. 

 

He sighs shakily as Mark trades his empty bottle for an unwrapped protein bar. Jackson takes in mindlessly, trying not to make it completely obvious all he wants to do right now is fuck his boyfriend and makes a surprised noise when he bites into a green tea flavored protein bar. Even through the haze of his rut, Jackson thinks it tastes really good and tells Mark so. Mark just smiles his small smile and shrugs a shoulder. “I know what you like.” 

 

Mark holds out his hand when Jackson finishes the bar and gathers the empty bottles, placing more out by Jackson’s night table before he puts the trash in a bag and leaves to go throw it out. Jackson is hot from his rut but that makes his heart feel warm; he’s never had anyone take care of him in a rut before, usually just holed up alone for the duration of it. 

 

Mark steps back into the room while Jackson is lost in thought. Jackson doesn’t notice until Mark’s sweater is being thrown towards his head, Jackson not fast enough to stop it from hitting him in the face. He involuntarily, automatically gasps and Mark’s scent floods his nose and even his mouth. He hesitatingly moves the cloth from his view despite wanting to bury his face in it. When Mark comes back into Jackson’s view, he’s unbuckling his pants.

 

“Um, w-what are you doing?”

 

Mark gives him a look as he hops out of his ripped skinnies. “What do you think I’m doing?”

 

“But-I-you-what-huh?”

 

Mark’s eyebrow raises. “Do you not want me here?”

 

“That’s not what I said! It’s-I-You shouldn’t be here!” Jackson backtracks when he sees surprised hurt creep into Mark’s eyes. “Not that I don’t want you here -I do! But isn’t this dangerous? You shouldn’t be here! I don’t know if you haven’t noticed Mark, but I’m in a  _ rut _ -” 

 

Mark rolls his eyes. “Really? I didn’t realize.”

 

“-I don’t want to hurt you,” Jackson continues quietly, swallowing the saliva that’s gathered in his mouth with Mark so close, sitting on his hands to restrain himself. He’s not looking at Mark and so doesn’t see his mouth open in surprise and his eyes blink into something soft.

 

Mark comes up to him, throwing his legs on either side of Jackson’s hips and cups Jackson’s face in his hands, staring at him so intently that Jackson is frozen in place. “You won’t hurt me.” 

 

He says it resolutely, trust in his eyes and a smile on his lips and Jackson doesn’t know what to do with that. Wants to flail and scream and pace and simultaneously glomp, kiss and never let Mark go. This only makes him want to tell Mark to leave even more, doesn’t want to shatter what they have by being too hormonal. Literally. 

 

Mark must see the hesitation and unsurety on Jackson’s face because he clicks his tongue and forces Jackson to look at him again. “Gaga, listen to me. You have to trust the you I’m trusting, okay. You know I wouldn’t be here if I felt anything but safe, you big dummy.” 

 

Jackson raises a finger to refute that last part but Mark still has his hands cupped around Jackson’s face and pulls him forward to kiss him. When he pulls back after a few seconds, Mark pinches the apples of Jackson’s cheeks, playful. 

 

“Now, come on, stretch me out, I’m dying over here.” 

-

 

“Too much?” Jackson rasps, shaking but concerned. He pulls back slightly and it takes a lot from Mark to keep from hitting him. 

 

“Wang Jiaer get your stupid ass back here,” Mark manages to gasp out, a hand pulling insistently at Jackson’s chains to drag him down, to drag him closer.

 

“Shit,” Jackson breathes out, his cock twitching as Mark yanks him down. His quick reflexes have him quickly bracing himself, arms coming down to plant themselves at Mark’s sides. 

 

Jackson doesn’t want to hurt him -never wants to ever hurt him -and although his hormones scream one thing, Jackson screams back another. Years and years of learning to compose himself are threatened to sink down a drain of instinctual lust but Jackson fights his way up and out of the haze, his head lifting from where his chin was pointing at his chest, and panting for air likes he’s just come out from underwater. 

 

He’s trembling and his jaw is clenched and his hands are bunching the sheets underneath the pillow supporting Mark’s head. He moves after a few moments. Jackson doesn’t know who needed that short respite more -him or Mark. He pushes in and pulls out, slow and rhythmic, tides slowly lapping at the shore. His arms tremble from where they’re holding himself above Mark, veins in his arms bulging out as he tries to restrain himself. 

 

Mark runs a hand up one of Jackson’s arms, reaching up to tangle up into his hair, pushing Jackson’s head down to meet Mark’s lips in short chaste kisses, breathing against each other’s mouths. 

 

“Come on,” Mark says, his thumb tracing the shell of Jackson’s ear, widening his thighs a little more, encouraging. 

 

Jackson bites his bottom lip and he swallows. His rut is both more bearable and more unbearable simultaneously. Mark is here and his presence makes Jackson’s veins and instincts thrum with pleasure, his body telling him to thrust a little harder, fuck a little rougher and his rut will abate. 

 

“Please, please…” Mark asks of him, pleads little more than wisps of air between them, pearlescent cigarette smoke that tapers off into nothing in between the space between Mark and Jackson. 

 

A thrust a little harder than the rest and Mark’s face flushes red and his head begins to toss back, neck bared a little more than before. Jackson can smell him so potently, can taste him so heavily on his tongue. He leans down to kiss Mark properly, hands coming up to cup Mark’s cheeks to hold him in place as he devours him, throat swallowing the moans freely given to him, shotgunning without the smoke. Jackson pulls back suddenly and he rumbles when Mark’s head comes up to chase him. Mark’s mouth is a glistening swollen red, shoulders shaking from his panting breaths and Jackson trails his hands from Mark’s cheeks to his chest, to push him firmly back against the bed.

 

Mark’s mouth opens to say something -anything- but he can’t remember what he was going to say when Jackson pulls back a little further and comes back into him a little harder. His mouth opens a little wider and his head tosses back further on the pillow, the view of the ceiling blurring as his eyes cross. His next exhale comes out as a rough moan as Jackson does the same thing again and again and again. He’s getting faster and faster and faster, face pleasure pained and lower jaw clenched as he keeps himself in check over Mark. 

 

Jackson’s the one in the rut but it’s Mark that’s slowly losing it. 

 

The slide into Mark is so smooth; he’s so wet. Mark keeps tossing his head back, keeps baring his throat and Jackson has to continually stop himself from biting into the translucent skin around Mark’s scent glands, to leave a bond bite so deep it’ll stay an everlasting red against the warm porcelain of his throat. 

 

Mark’s hands are pressed up against Jackson’s abdomen, fingers curling sporadically into the flexing muscle when Jackson moves. Mark’s hands feel cool where they touch Jackson, even though he knows that Mark is far from cold, pink trailing up from between his legs to stain the apples of his cheeks, the wet smear of his lips. 

 

Mark’s hands move suddenly to grasp at Jackson’s biceps when Jackson moves, shifting his weight. His hands slip off, slick with sweat, and they fall open to his sides, elbows bent and fists pressing back into the pillow. Mark jolts when Jackson suddenly starts to rub against a good spot, an exhale forced out of him as a breathy whine. “Oh!”

 

Jackson fucks into him faster and harder than before, pounding into him with the terrifying single mindedness Mark had seen in Jackson’s old fencing videos. He grunts and growls above Mark, leaving open mouthed kisses along the ridges of his collarbones, the pale expanse of his neck, murmuring filthy nothings that caress Mark’s jaw just like the sensual plucking of a spanish guitar does to the ears. He flushes in hot pleasure, animal part of his brain purring at his alpha’s praise. “You’re so good baby, you’re doing so good…” 

 

Mark’s not even sure how long it’s been since they started anymore. The clock Jackson keeps on his nightside table is meters away from Mark’s head and he could just turn to look, but he doesn’t-can’t, can’t take his focus off Jackson. He doesn’t know when his eyes close, but opens them up again when Jackson presses kisses against his lids. Jackson presses his cheek against Mark’s, their sweat making their skin slip against each other as they move together. Jackson nuzzles his way down Mark’s jaw to his neck, laving open kisses where he can reach, mouth watering at being so close to Mark’s scent glands, Mark’s scent potent on his tongue. He mouths over Mark’s scent glands but doesn’t open his mouth any wider, doesn’t try to bite him no matter how badly he wants to, chest rumbling with little distressed growls at being so close and yet so far, knot growing insistently at the base of his cock anyway, body and alpha tricked into thinking it’s a claiming.  

 

Mark -of course- notices, too observant, too intuned with Jackson not to. They’re pressed too tightly together for Mark not to feel the clench in Jackson’s jaw. He swallows and nudges Jackson’s head back up to kiss him.

 

“I’d let you,” Mark breathes in to Jackson’s mouth, wet. “I’d let you, if we didn’t have schedules I’d let you-” 

 

Jackson growls and shoves his knot as deep as it’ll go into Mark’s body. Mark tosses his head back and takes it, whining at the stretch and clenching down on Jackson inside him. He twitches and thrashes in Jackson’s hold, body overwhelmed with sensation, arms coming up to pull Jackson close down to him, tucking his head in a way that Mark can exhale breathy mewls next to his ear. 

 

“Oh my god,” Mark whimpers into Jackson’s ear, eyes closed and mouth open, vocalizing unconsciously. “Gaga- _ oh my god _ .”

 

Both of them are still twitching in each other’s holds, toes and fingers twitching as Jackson’s knot keeps them together. Jackson feels warm -no longer too hot, but warm like he just came out of a relaxing bath, feeling like he’s just taken off glasses with the wrong prescription as he comes back to himself. Their breathing slows gradually as Jackson’s knot goes down, hearts thudding against each other as their sweat cools. 

 

Mark starts trembling in his arms from the night chill and Jackson very gently shifts on the bed, pulling out slowly from Mark’s body so that he can move to pull the discarded covers over them. Mark whines in the back of his throat as he’s let go for several moments, chilled after the dissipation of the heat between them and Jackson all but leaps to take him back into his arms and tucks them in under his duvet. 

 

Mark sighs, exhausted against his neck, snuffling and shifting restlessly until he finds a comfortable position for himself. They’re covered in drying sweat and residual stickiness and Jackson can feel Mark leaking Jackson’s come as he lays down and presses up against Jackson’s chest. It makes Jackson rumble deep and satisfied in the back of his throat. 

 

“Better?” Mark murmurs, his body lax and almost dead weight against Jackson, halfway to sleep. 

 

“Always with you,” Jackson whispers into Mark’s hair, feels a better, gentler type of warmth build inside him when Mark purrs against him, satisfied at his answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sorry ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> but i am sorry for the shitty ending i just needed it to end ok lol

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> i think i spent more time looking for a title than i did editing this 
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/missgine)   
> 


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